


paper cranes, paper planes

by aesterismo



Category: Young Avengers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 15:06:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aesterismo/pseuds/aesterismo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Billy loses control of his powers and things go to hell…and back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	paper cranes, paper planes

He was going on a trip.

All he could recall was that single thought.  A number of scattered thoughts dissolved into white, white clouds and vague blue skies, but.  None of them were distinguishable over the low hum of what sounded like a jet plane’s engine. 

He shut his eyes and leaned back into the comfortable space behind him.

(space?  no, seat.  it was a seat.  a very cushion-y, comfy seat.  with a pillow for the headrest.  blue pillows and white blankets.   _ahh_.  yes.  that was much, much better.)

So, then.  Right.  He was on a plane at the time and he wasn’t alone.  But the person in the seat beside him never moved, never spoke.  The sunlight streaming in from the window made it hard to see his seat neighbor’s face, but he could tell the other person was…smiling.  Full lips and broad shoulders.  A gentle, gentle smile.  Strangely familiar, too.

(familiar— family.  perhaps, then, some bonds that were meant to be broken, while  others not yet unbroken.  a faint whirring, like machinery gone on the fritz— his name.  someone’s voice was calling him, but it was too far away to discern; too far, too far, toofartoofar _too_ —)

Billy was.  floating now.  Yes.

No longer in the plane, in that place, next to the person who had such a familiar and warm smile.  No longer leaning back in his seat, in that space, sunlight pouring in from the glass barrier blown away in a swift but quiet wind.  No longer anywhere in particular.  Belonging to nowhere, nothing.  to no one in particular.

(no one heard it, the crack of invisible fissures appearing on his conscience, on his mind, on his _heart_ \- no one heard a thing, not a sound.  but by the time he was up in the air—)

light.  sound. touch.  taste.  smell.  paper cranes, paper planes; something old, something new; something borrowed, something blueredblack **white**.

And then, there was nothing.  No emotions, no seizing fear.  Nothing in his hands, nothing in his mind. 

(—and by the time he finally opened his eyes, he was—)

Alas, ignorance is bliss. 

“Teddy!”

(—too late.)

* * *

The second place - the second real place - that Billy ended up in that day was the very last place he wanted to be.

Sure, it was quiet.  It’s not like any of them hadn’t ended up here before, on account of small-scale injuries, wounds, or broken bones that healed within the fortnight at the very most. 

They were superheroes; it was part of the job description.

But this.  This was different, very different.  Different in the sense that none of them - not a single one of them - could explain how it happened or what would happen now and in the sense that Billy had a horrible, horrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that was a lot less like indigestion or even guilt and a lot more like **dread**.

It was his fault this happened. 

It was his fault Teddy was in a hospital bed now, in critical condition, unable to wake up no matter what the doctors did for him. 

It was _his fault_.

Kate was the first to stand up and pull him into a tight hug when the tears finally came, reaching around Tommy with a lost look that mirrored the silver-haired boy’s.  His brother wrapped an awkward arm around his shoulders after three quiet sniffles and two muffled sobs against Kate’s collar while another, decidedly taller presence came around his other side to hold onto Billy’s trembling hand, still clutching the red-stained fabric of Teddy’s torn jacket. 

It should have been a comfort, to know that he wasn’t alone in his guilt and that no one held this ‘accident’ against him, but it only served to make the tears fall faster.

Then again, it should have been just a normal mission - get in, do their thing, and be done with it. 

(But life’s unpredictable course sent them veering into something else entirely and now - in the wake of an aftermath none of them expected - the debris left after this collision with the harsh mistress called reality was their mess to clean up.  Theirs and theirs alone.)

* * *

Hours turned into small-scale eternities for what felt like hours more until a sudden _crashclatter_ from Teddy’s hospital room awoke Billy from his short nap.

He jerked awake almost immediately, ducking away from Tommy’s chin and disentangling himself from Eli’s and Kate’s arms before (ignoring the glaring red light illuminating the words “do not enter” entirely) throwing open the door with eyes wide open and heart running at a thunder-struck rate in his chest.

What awaited him wasn’t an even worse mess than the battleground they had just left, nor a single trace of shattered glass, stone or plaster, or blood stains to be found. 

It wasn’t that he lost all faith in Teddy’s survival.  Not in the least.

He knew how strong his boyfriend was, always knew deep down that he would be okay, despite all his nagging fears and the panickedwhat ifthat initially struck him when he found Teddy lying under that pile of rubble after his white-out.,  No, he hadn’t for a moment thought that Teddy would be anything but strong, anything but capable of pulling himself back up from the brink of death.  Not in the least.

But it was this part that he had been most afraid of all along: the inevitable confrontation, the part where Teddy - sitting upright in bed, damaged tissue mostly repaired and charred skin now returned to its original state, not frowning but **smiling** , though obviously exhausted from the strain his body felt from its regenerative processes working in quicker than usual - looked up at him and pointed to the fallen bowl of water that had made quite a mess on the linoleum. 

Instead of wanting to laugh a bit at the humor of it all, Billy bit his lower lip to keep the churning in his stomach from turning into the first spark of an accusation.  Aimed at himself.

“Hey.”  Only Teddy Altman could manage to look attractive with bandages wrapped around more than half his body, tufts of blond sticking out from beneath fuzz-covered plaster and a sheepish grin to boyishly handsome features.  “Kind of bumped into something while I was sleeping.  Sorry.”

“Hey yourself.”  Billy wasn’t sure whether to be more offended by the idea that Teddy likened his near ten-hour coma to being asleep or bothered at the very sound of that last remark.  “You kept me waiting, you know.”

“At least you’re not a lady,” came Teddy’s light retort, eyes impossibly bright in the pale but slow-growing light of dawn.  “Otherwise, I’d be in even more trouble for keeping you waiting.”

Billy wanted to be angry.

He really wanted to stay angry.  With himself, with Teddy (but only a little - because it was impossible for him to stay angry with Teddy for longer than ten seconds), with the whole stupid situation he had gotten them into.

But.  Teddy didn’t say a word when Billy strode right up to his bed, climbed carefully into the taller boy’s lap, and wrapped his arms around Teddy with a strength even he was surprised by.  Even though Billy wanted to get at least one more witty comeback in - get at least one apology in, because dammit, Teddy wasn’t the one who was supposed to say it first, not when it was Billy’s powers that had gone out of control - the moment Teddy’s warm, warm hands floated up to rest against the cool skin of the nape of his neck and the brush of smiling lips slid across the red-lined edges of his closed eyelids, all his hopes of getting the last word in floated away into sun-streaked blue skies and soft white clouds and a firm kiss that send his thoughts flying higher than any plane or angel’s wings could ever take him.

“Good thing,” Billy at last breathed out, after they both pulled apart and finished sharing oxygen space, “you know you’re still in trouble.”

“That’s no good.”  Teddy’s frown was practically a pout now, brow furrowed in mock dismay.  “So how am I supposed to get myself out of the doghouse, then?”

Billy had a few ideas, but none of them required an explanation - at least, not a long-winded verbal explanation.  A slight of hand that found his fingers purchase against the firm muscle beneath Teddy’s hospital gown, a bit of creative maneuvering that miraculously closed the curtains and shut off the lights at the same time, and a muted gasp that echoed against the backdrop of rustling sheets and unzipped zippers served as explanation enough for a visual learner like Teddy.

“Okay,” chimed Teddy’s hoarse response in the dark.  “I guess that’s a start.”

(By sunrise, both boys promised never to speak of the incident again - that is, so long as Billy was done, as Teddy succinctly put it, “blowing up half of Manhattan and almost blowing up his boyfriend” - and so long as they could survive Kate’s pointed stares and Eli’s and Tommy’s none-too-subtle jabs at their glowing faces before they left the hospital ward together.)


End file.
